Monday, December 06, 2004

These mistakes...

Here's what I've been thinking about today:

So many things happen to us in our lives. From the time we're born, we go through these dramas every day or every other day. Once we become adolescents and adults, they're a much bigger deal, certainly. And at the time, they consume us. These events make day to day functioning near impossible. But then, somehow, time passes without us realizing it, and these events become nothing more than a speck of our story, a detail which we'd only relay to the closest friends... and even upon relaying the story, we'd undoubtedly be unable fully explain the way we felt at the time, the impact it seemed to have at the time... we can only vaguely explain the lesson it taught us, and perhaps let our mind drift as to who we would be had the event not happened.

It's strange to me to think of how many stories the people in my life must have that I'll never know, and likewise for those that seek out my company...

Friday, December 03, 2004


Since I moved to Los Angeles and started working in television, I avoid watching TV like the rest of America seems to avoid reading a newspaper. But I have it on right now for a dose of the Simpsons, and there's a T-Mobile commercial on that I have to write a bit about.

It starts with a couple sitting in their living room and the guy says, "My wireless bill is so high." The girl says, "Mine too." (beat) "Who are you calling?" (beat) The guy says, "You." Following this is a series of couples, each with the same premise... couples realizing all of their calls are to their significant other, and they're almost blaming each other for it.

What's so special about it? One of the couples is a GAY COUPLE. That's right, a GAY HOMOSEXUAL COUPLE. Yep, TWO DUDES IN LOVE.

See? I've said it before and I'll say it again: Equality will come... and it's worth the wait. This commercial is a step in the right direction, and I applaud t-mobile from a distance.

I'm not switching from Verizon, though. I'm not THAT gay.

Monday, November 22, 2004

Dear Love Note

Dear Love Note:

Oh, you think you're SO crafty, hiding all this time, just waiting for the moment I would find you. You've been so patient, quiet, secretive, among that little notepad shaped like the letter "K." She bought me that little notepad back when she would buy me anything that made her think of me. I got little gifts every time she came to visit... gifts that other people might not care about, but I loved them because they came from her.

I can't even tell you... well, I guess you already KNOW how many little Ks I've found all over the place with little notes from her: "Hi princess!" "Good morning!" "I miss you!" "I love you, sunshine!" "I love you!" "I love you, Katie." Every time she came here, she found that K shaped notepad and took a sheet off of it, when I wasn't looking, when I was undoubtedly wasting time doing something other than spending time with her when she was HERE, she'd take a sheet each time and write one of these notes and hide it: in my medicine cabinet, in my pillow case, in my journal, in my nightstand, my sock drawer, my jeans pockets, my backpack, my work bag, my purse, my wallet, my car, my sheets...

And now I've come to see that she not only would tear the little Ks off, she left some notes AMONG the notepad, waiting to be torn off. See, the notepad, it's four different colors... and each new color begins with a sheet that has something scrawled on it in her handwriting, that handwriting that has made my stomach dance for THIRTEEN YEARS NOW. Jesus.

So I hope you're happy, little Love Note, written with the best intention, I'm sure... unaware at its conception that it would haunt me only five or six months down the road, reminding me that she used to be on her way here, and now she's caught somewhere in between my life and hers, telling me she loves me, telling me that she doesn't love her like the way I do... she doesn't stimulate her, attract and captivate her, miss her, existing just to kiss her, like the way I do.

It's funny, really. I mean, you're a sheet of paper. And you're a novelty sheet of paper at that... really, who wants a sheet of paper shaped like the letter K? And it's bad enough that I still find her hair everywhere, when I haven't seen her in months, a long piece of her curly hair will pop up on a shirt I haven't worn in a while... or worse, a shirt that I HAVE worn and have WASHED several times, but the stubborn piece of hair doesn't leave unless I pick it off and throw it away. Throw it away. Yeah, I know, Love Note, it's hair... but it's HER hair, and her hair is beautiful, just like she is.

Just when I'm ready to give time TIME... just when I'm ready to NOT call her, to let her go, to hurry up and wait... you pop up, unexpectedly. Oh, but how can I stay angry at YOU, little Love Note?

Thanks for keeping a sense of humor, Love Note. Thanks for keeping me guessing.

Here's to you, Love Note!

Happy Holidays to you and yours. In all truth, I don't think I've seen the last of you.


Thursday, November 18, 2004

This life.

I know you've all thought of it before, but let's remind ourselves, all together now: Life is weird.

I don't know why this continually surprises me. I realized it first when I left college and time seemed to double its speed in passing. Life just rolls on, whether or not you're ready for the next stop. When I forget this, time goes by even more quickly, and there will be months that will pass in a fog, and suddenly I'll emerge for air and all of the feelings that are numbed by the passage of time come to the surface, nagging me, reminding me that they're still there, needing attention. Hi! You're still in love with someone! You still don't have any money! You still haven't written that thing you told yourself you'd write!

You're still alive!

This is the one that gets me. I forget it sometimes. Or rather... I ignore it. I do what I need to do to get by. So many people do this. But I don't want to be one of those people. I fall into an easy routine, which divides my day into sections: morning, which is fueled by the so-important first cup of coffee. This lasts until 11ish, when I start to make lunch plans. Lunch is fine, but that time after lunch, between 2 and 6... that's the worst. If I'm having a good day, there will be a Diet Coke available, or I'll find five dollars in my bag and go buy myself a Starbucks (a coffee, not an actual store). But it seems my day HINGES on getting through these four hours. And I do this thing that I HATE: I rush it. I can't wait until it's over. Lately, all I want to do is sleep, to erase it all, to forget everything, to ignore everything. Not productive, really. And then AFTER 6, there's a bewitching hour where there's still a chance for me to do something good with my time... but it usually passes me by and then 9:00 rolls around and if I'm not out drinking, I want to be in my pajamas and curled up in my heaven bed, reading, thanks.

But then those times when I come up for air from the fog of life, when I'm reminded of all the pain and possible happiness, I'm reminded of being alive. I'm thankful. It's true.

Then there are just weird things... like today, for example, on my way to work... same route every day... 101N to the 170S (THE VALLEY!)... I saw TWO CARS that I saw yesterday. THE SAME CARS. One was a Jeep a vanity license plate about Loving Kids... the other was a non-descript white car with a guy driving it wearing a really big hat. The same hat he wore yesterday. On the same stretch of the 170. Crazy. I wonder if the big hat guy and the woman who loves kids ever questions existence or purpose. Or do they fall into the category of Everyone But Me, those people who know what life is about, have it all together, never get their hearts broken, filled with an endless flow of confidence that oozes out of them in a charming way. I wonder. Maybe I'll ask them if I see them again tomorrow...

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Eight Hours

s there something wrong with going to bed at 10:30 and waking promptly at 6:30? Should I feel like I'm 40 years old and raising triplets? (I'm not. I'm 26... and raising my standards.)

I'm starting to get really sick of bad coffee. When I make coffee at home, it's magical. I put in a bit of dream creamer (dairy-free, thanks) and try hard to find time to enjoy this glorious chemical in the comfort of my own home. Mornings are my favorite time of day. There's so much hope. Maybe TODAY is the day I'll come home and write. Maybe TODAY is the day I'll watch that Netflix movie I've had for two months while the Folks at Netflix are sitting pretty, gladly taking the $22 out of my checking account every month and in return sending me three DVDs which I never have time to watch, or worse, I find the time to watch them and fall asleep and miss the end, so then I feel compelled to keep them longer to actually FINISH the movie, so really, I'm paying $22 to rent three movies for 2 months at a time. If I weren't a member of Netflix, I would never rent movies anyway. Am I saving money?

Anyway, so yeah, the morning. It's a new day. I like to bask in the glory of it. And my living situation is such that I have the perfect roommate. She likes to stay up late, I like to get up early. So when I'm actually home (which seems to be rare), we both get to have alone time - me in the morning, her in the evening. I make coffee as soon as I wake up, and usually drink it sitting on the couch, reading, or just contemplating life in general.

Unfortunately, there are times when I don't have time to make coffee, or I make it, but it's not enough. It's these times I want to be able to walk somewhere near work and BUY a cup of coffee. There are two coffee places within walking distance - a donut shop across the street and a 7-11 down the street. These places make money selling what is arguably the worst coffee in California, if not the lower 48. And people like me keep buying it, justifying the purchase by saying something like: oh, maybe it'll be a good pot this time... OR I'll just put more/less sugar in it this time. Yet, it's always disgusting. I'm not talking about a disgusting that is manageable. I'm talking about the kind of disgusting where your lips curl involuntarily when you're bringing the cup to your mouth, and you can almost hear your stomach screaming: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?? Really. It's that bad.

And I sit. In need of just a little more buzz. The nearest Starbucks is driving distance, not walking distance. You know, there are three Starbucks and one Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf within walking distance of my apartment. Yet at work, nothing. THIS is another reason to HATE the VALLEY.

I hope as you're reading this, you're full of good coffee.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Confessions, part 1

1. I'm smart. No one can get anything past me.
2. I had braces for two and a half years.
3. I'm good at reading maps, and I like doing it.
4. If you lie to me, I'll have trouble forgiving you.
5. If you never lie to me, I'll believe anything you say, because... well, see number 1.
6. I like to read, and the best books in my collection have multiple passages underlined.
7. I like good poetry.
8. I despise bad poetry.
9. I like being in charge of things... but I'm a terrible decision maker.
10. I pride myself in being on time... generally.
11. I am going out tonight and for the first time in three years, I'm purposely NOT wearing a watch.
12. I've checked my tough bracelet as though it were my watch 5 times in the last 20 minutes.
13. I'm going to be a great mom some day.
14. I will not give you my time if I think you are not worth my time. This isn't snobby... it's simply a defense mechanism.
15. I got my tongue pierced when I was 24.
16. I never regret any experience.
17. Every person I have ever met has taught me something.
18. I consistently have high hopes of people, and seem to be disappointed quite a bit.
19. I got the idea to do a list like this from another "blogger." I decided to do it because people sometimes underestimate me.
20. I don't like mean, manipulative people.
21. My stomach hurts right now from something I ate last night.
22. I find most people attractive in some way.
23. The best sex I ever had was with an Italian girl.
24. I'm jealous.
25. I'm loyal and appreciate loyalty from others.
26. I got a 29 on the first and only time I took the ACT.
27. My bed is incredibly comfortable.
28. I have a ridiculous 25 disc CD changer.
29. I'm bad at math, but got straight As in Calculus.
30. I hate rejection, but I don't fear it.
31. I try to regularly do things I'm afraid of.
32. My favorite color is blue.
33. I grew my hair long because a hot girl told me to.
34. I hate when people say they'll call and they don't.
35. I hate insincerity.
36. I hate the word "hate."
37. I love the rain.
38. I have 2 tattoos.
39. I'm a good girlfriend.
40. I love martinis.

Friday, November 05, 2004

Vision is scary

okay, so we lost. we have another four years of bush. but everything happens for a reason... and i feel like this is our kick in the ass to make a difference.

i came to this realization on wednesday, when i woke up in the morning and saw that ohio STILL had not been counted. ohio... the place where i grew up, where as a young pup in high school, i fought censorship and the removal of the pop machines in the cafeteria. i didn't do much else... but i learned early on not to blindly listen to authority. and i did it in ohio. i moved away from ohio when i was 21 years old... i moved away because of the gay thing, the female thing, and the career thing. and these are the same reasons i can never go back.

i'm getting ahead of myself.

i started thinking of equality. the whole 11-states-passing-gay-marriage-bans was echoing in my head. i keep telling people, it will happen for us. america will come to realize this is NOT a big deal, that love between two consenting adults is not something to be discriminated against. they will realize that the things wrong with gay marriages are the same things wrong with straight marriages. and someday, we won't even need those qualifying adjectives of gay and straight. it'll just be marriage. this might not happen in 10 years, it might not happen in 50... it could easily take 100 years. but it'll happen.

and you know what? it's worth the wait.

so i'm thinking of this. i'm thinking, how can we be surprised that we can't convince all of these people in the midwest, all of these archaic lawmakers who are so set in their ways... we can't expect them to change their minds overnight. two guys marrying or two women marrying is WEIRD. let's face it. it's something different than we're used to, and i feel like only gays who have been out for years or are SUPER comfortable with their sexuality and SUPER well-rounded think differently. but you know what? it's not a bad weird. it's a DIFFERENT weird. it's just different. plain and simple. and it's a difficult fight to try to convince a white 60 year old guy that he should accept it.

so this was bumming me out, naturally. and then i thought... wait. in 30 years, that white 60 year old guy will be dead. most likely. and who will making the laws then? the 30 year olds of today. wait... that's me! okay, so i'm only 26. but you get the point. all of these progressive thinkers, all of these people who DIDN'T VOTE but who can't believe that bush got re-elected, THESE are the people who are going to be making decisions in 30 years.

even MORE brilliant... in 50 years, it will be the 10 year olds of today. and here's where the light went off in my head. i don't know how i couldn't see it before. these kids are 10! there is still time for them. who will teach them? who can we rely on to teach them that being gay is more than a guy in a drag waving a rainbow flag? who, you ask? i know you kids are waiting for the answer.

the answer is us. WE have to teach them. yeah, so it's obvious, but i just realized it the other day. and it's scary, because it requires so much of us. for gay people, you have to come out to everyone you know, and spend time educating those who don't get it... especially the younger generation. don't waste your time on grandma and grandpa or great uncle roy or whoever. put your energy where there's still a chance for change. be a good role model. be active. show these people that gays are just like everyone else.

and for those of you who aren't gay but who have no problem with it, you have just as much responsibility as us, if not more, because you're coming from neutral ground with the straightfolk. help. make a difference. do it.

and THEN i was thinking how scary this is. how vulnerable i will have to make myself, but how there is no other way, and how i can't complain about it unless i do something about it. and i was hating the fact that i had to do it, that i live in a country and an age where i have to fight this fight, and as homer says in the episode where he's the trash guy: "can't someone else do it?" who says i'm the right person for this fight?

and then i saw a bumper sticker, faded from three years of sun and rain and wind since 9/11. it had a flag and an eagle, two images which i respect but am desensitized to. but it had a simple saying on it, one which usually i would ignore but this time i thought about it: "land of the free, home of the brave." home of the brave. i don't mean to get super-patriotic here, but come on, america is a great place to be. it may not be at its high point right now, but we're growing. and if ANYONE can change people's minds, it's us. we're taught that from such a young age, the whole american dream...

i don't think any of us thought we'd actually have to fight for anything. but we do. and we will.

it's worth the fight, and it's worth the wait.

Friday, October 29, 2004

I Heart Soccer Moms

Monday morning, I met my friend for a cup of coffee at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on the corner of Laurel Canyon and Ventura before we both headed to our mutual place of employment. I'm always intrigued by the people I see at this place... I'm usually there when there's a rush: weekday mornings, everyone blindly in line for any drug that will get them through the first four hours of their morning. And of course, in Los Angeles (more appropriately, The Valley), everyone's work outfit is different. Usually I see a few people dressed similar to myself: comfortable jeans, comfortable shirt, comfortable shoes. I also see Business People, with important folders overflowing with important documents, late for important meetings, buying important lattes.

Now these people don't surprise me. The people that surprise me are the people sitting outside at the tables at 8:30 on a weekday morning, seemingly with nothing better to do than to come to the CBTL in Studio City. Do these people work? Are they actors? I don't get these people.

I saw a new breed of people at the CBTL this past Monday. I'm a people-watcher by nature; my eyes scan every crowd. I strode into the CBTL, head up, friend at my side, and I saw five women, all between 32 and 38. One of them was half-minding a three year old boy who was coloring. As I walked by, I heard one of them say, "When Jeffrey was born..." My heart started beating a wee bit faster as I realized what this pack was: a Mommy Group.

These weren't just any mommies. These were sexy mommies. These women were beautiful. They were LA moms with busy schedules but a lot of love for their children. Stay-at-home moms who come to CBTL when they can get a sitter for a morning.

I don't know what it is about women who are mothers that is so attractive to me. I'm attracted to women older than myself - their confidence, their perspective, the beginnings of little lines around their eyes. But you put a kid into that mix... you give me a beautiful woman who is also a good mom... forget about it. I don't know if it's because I want to be a mom myself... or maybe it's because these moms are so different from the midwestern moms I grew up knowing... whatever it is, these women were HOT (and straight), and to be honest, if there were a group of hot lesbians standing next to these moms, I would have been still staring at the moms.

Is that bad?

Wednesday, October 13, 2004


"why do people learn how to surf? they get bruised, busted, beaten by the ocean, but when they finally learn, it's heaven."

that's what chrissie said to me in our middle-of-the-day two hour phone conversation (love that free mobile-to-mobile... they NEVER stop working for us!) as i choked back tears, circling around the answer to my current girl problem. i was running errands for work and we chatted the whole time, about love, politics, girls, the EX factor, fire extinguishers, fires, babysitters and marriage (gay AND straight, successful ones AND those that end in murders). i'm grateful for her... she's a good listener and a loyal girl.

in any case, her surfing reference was typical coming from her, yet beautiful because she knows. she surfs. and she's been in love. and it made sense. it's an audition, and practice makes perfect, and as sandra bernhard says: "i always love very deeply"... and something about learning to love stronger and deeper with each relationship. (exact quote to come)

i'm the girl who always says to her friends, "things happen for a reason. people come in and out of your life for very specific reasons at very specific times." and i get that, and it's easy to say. what's not easy is tempting fate in such a way where you risk losing out, with the persistent underlying doubt that you might be making a mistake.

it's trite. i know, you don't have to tell me.

maybe i cut out the love factor completely and return to that girl i was before i ever fell in love: passionate about so many OTHER things... film, theater, writing, friends. i'm fine on my own. i just miss her. that's it. i wonder if it's nostalgia and the cinematic "romance" of our story... a feeling that causes me to scream, "this CAN'T be how this ENDS."

i'm going to ignore it for a while and concentrate on the election. gotta have SOMETHING to piss me off at least once a day.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Where the I-15 meets the 79...

i went to pechanga this weekend. i have no issue giving them bad publicity. a good friend of mine sticks to the idea that if you're gonna gamble, you go to vegas. i naively believed the billboards: "Vegas Fun close to home!" first off, it's NOT close to home. unless your home is temecula. and who lives in temecula? secondly, the comparing pechanga to vegas is like comparing... well, i can't think of what it's like comparing, but that's not the point. you lose money in both places. but at pechanga, you're not really having any fun.

there were TWO five dollar black jack tables in the whole casino. i waited 20 minutes to lose $60. the dealer was an asshole, and seemed very new. he kept trying to be cool with the cards and kept fumbling. he didn't have patience for new players at the table, and wasn't offering any help. the dealers in vegas want you to win. this guy didn't want you to win. you would have thought he was playing with his own money.

the ONE good thing about the casino is that they have a non-smoking section. but that's it. the drinks aren't free, the waitresses aren't cute, and the people aren't interesting.

on a better note, i heard a song today by an artist i had never heard of, and as luck would have it, she's singing at the Hotel Cafe this friday. i loved the song... and will be at the show for sure, before hitting the abbey for what promises to be a night of note.

i love the fall.

Friday, September 03, 2004

Life in the South Bay

last night, we went to a benefit for an organization called SurfRider ( they help keep the beaches clean and pretty. the benefit was at sharkeez on the hermosa pier. can we pause for a moment and reflect on how many beautiful people live in the LA area? i think they were all there last night.

after a pitcher of beer for me and a pitcher of beer for my girl-friend (friend that's a girl), we headed a little north to manhattan beach to hang at her place for a spell. we then hit the sharkeez in manhattan beach to see more beautiful people and drink a little more beer. we didn't find the girl we were looking for, but we DID see the incredibly cute waitress who had been at the HB sharkeez helping to save the beach, now at the MB sharkeez continuing in her persistent quest to keep our beaches clean. we fell in love with her... and of course, she broke our hearts. it was a whirlwind romance.

Thursday, September 02, 2004


every day of my life, i learn more and more how fucking great it is to be here. oh sure, sometimes it sucks: sometimes the marrow of your soul is sucked dry by unknown forces and you can't remember smiling or laughing or even crying... feeling... and all you can do is sleep because "god has made sleep so it erases every thought"... but then there are other days. those days when the sun is doing what you want it to do and you're with someone you love... not in a i'm-in-love-with-you-and-am-sad-because-i-can't-fuck-you sort of way, but in a i'm-amazed-by-you-more-every-minute-and-am-blessed-to-have-you-as-a-friend sort of way... and you're with him, or her, and you're in a mustang convertible driving through the desert, listening to music really loud, music in the cd player and music you're making up as you go, lyrics that make no sense but make you laugh like you're five years old again... and you feel connected, loved, cherished, happy, needed. and you realize that your broken heart that you were forced to deal with only three months ago had a purpose, and had your heart not been broken, you wouldn't be in this mustang convertible with this beautiful girl and this beautiful guy, driving through the desert, making up music as you go. it wouldn't be this hot, the sun wouldn't be setting this minute, and your eyes wouldn't be welling up with tears at the thought of what could have been and what might yet come to be. and that's what it is. life. i mean, there it is, right? it's that sunset, those tears, that $200, that surfer girl with the long blonde hair, freckles, and suspicious confidence, that michigan guy with a heart as warm as a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, that mustang, those sunflower seeds, that dancing queen, those leather seats, that cowboy hat, those silly songs, those shared memories, those snapshots of brilliance, that beautiful cocktail waitress, O'S, IP, and all the other things you say... that's it, right? despite the things that happen to me, despite their seemingly ficticious beginnings or similarities, my life is not a movie. i see it often from behind the lens... a wide shot of a girl in a bar, making people laugh, a cute girl hugging her... but it's here, i'm living it. it gets crazy, but it's never scripted, and my expectations will continually fade into a realm with which i'll never be familiar. it's freeing... it will open me to a world i've been living in but haven't believed. it will make me sit with my heartache just as i revel in my happiness. i'm ready for the rest of it.